The Aftermath
by AVX
Summary: When tragedy strikes Pine Valley, the aftermath changes everything. (Focuses mainly on the Kane women as they survive tragedy, rebuild their family and extract justice.)
1. Prologue

Prologue

"_Don't fight back, Ryan," the voice sounded frantic, desperate. "Just cry. If you cry he'll stop. Just cry."_

He hadn't cried.

…

In the dream, the gun moved slowly. Not in slow motion, but slowly. It seemed to take forever to pan down ... to find its target. It moved slowly enough to be stopped. If anyone had been watching … if anyone had been there.

He hadn't been there.

…

"Would you like to say something, Mr. Lavery?"

Startled, Ryan's head jerked up towards the kindly old priest. The eyes he met held more than a question. They held sympathy, understanding, and maybe forgiveness even. He looked back down almost immediately, knowing as he did that he deserved none of those things.

He had made the arrangements quickly … secretly. And since there would be no one to hear, he hadn't thought about saying anything. But, he was wrong about that too, he realized. There was someone.

He bent to one knee, a palm resting on the smooth lid of the box. It was cold, colder even than the dampness of the ground seeping into his knee. He closed his eyes, trying to feel something, anything, beyond the cold – a prayer, a reason, a path. There was nothing. He opened his eyes and looked at the name etched in the stone, and then down at his own hand. "I'm sorry." It was a whisper fighting it's way through the beginnings of tears. The next words were clearer, louder, "I am so sorry. I should have been there … with you … for you." He stopped again, gathering himself with a deep breath. "I didn't mean to leave you alone." But the words had no sooner left his mouth when Ryan shook his head, stopping himself, "I meant to leave, it's just … I just … I just didn't realize." He stopped again – that was wrong too. The next words were flat, "I didn't think about it. It was my job to protect you, and instead I left. You needed me back then … back then, now, all the times in between. And I wasn't … I didn't ..." Unable to finish, he stood, nodded at the priest and turned away.

He had only made it a few steps when he turned and looked back. The coffin had just begun its descent. The start of a sob escaped before he could stop it. He was silent for a moment, but then spoke again, "I wish I had been a brother to you, Jonathan. Please know that."

He had a long drive home. And those hours would be the last of his peace, such as it was. He felt spent … empty …hollow. And this … this was the easy part. Tomorrow was another funeral.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Maggie was practically pleading with him now.

Jonathan continued to pace back and forth in front of her, anger rolling off of him in waves. "Why was she here?" he demanded, "Why was she asking me those questions?"

"Questions?" Maggie's mind whirled as she tried to make sense of what was happening, of what had set him off. "Lily was asking you questions?"

He stopped then and turned towards her. She took a step back. "Don't play stupid with me," he hissed at her, "I just want to know why. I think I deserve that much Maggie … to know how and why you're using her against me."

"I'm not using Lily against you Jonathan," she insisted. "I'm not using anyone against you. I love you. We're getting married."

In an instant he was there, right in her face. He grabbed both of her arms and pulled her even closer, "What did you tell her," he was screaming now.

Maggie's voice was quiet and low, her eyes begging him to believe her, "I didn't tell her anything." Tears were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes.

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. After a long moment, he shoved her away from him, and his next words mimicked her own scared tone, "I didn't tell her anything." Disgust contorted his face, "You're a liar."

Maggie could see the anger building in him. And for the first time since that first time, she thought about leaving. She actually decided to leave, but he was standing directly in her path to the door. "Jonathan," she tried to reason with him, "Lily is autistic. No one knows why she does the things she does or says the things she says. She's different. Her mind doesn't work like other people's."

She saw him pause and consider her words, and a bit of the tension left her. "She's just a kid," Maggie continued, "She doesn't have an agenda. She's not capable of it. What you're saying … it's just not true. It doesn't make any sense."

The slap came so hard and so fast that she was totally unprepared. The force of it knocked her sideways and she only stayed on her feet because she was able to brace herself against the end table. "Are you calling me stupid?"

Slumped over the table, Maggie tried to think of what to say, the answer to the question, but her head was ringing. She couldn't find the word. She heard the footsteps coming behind her. "No," the word finally came out in a sudden huff as she tried to catch her breath. And that 'no' wasn't just the answer to Jonathan's question, it was a frantic command from her mind to her body. She willed herself to move, but her body didn't respond. Jonathan grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her upright. He cocked his head to one side, as if considering her, "You think I'm stupid, Maggie?"

She raised a hand to try to fend him off, but it only made him grab her hair tighter, pull harder. She cried out in pain.

"You're the one who's stupid, Maggie," his voice sounded almost gleeful now as he moved his face closer to hers, "If you think that I'm going to stand around and let you lie to me … humiliate me …," he paused, tugging once more on her hair to bring her even closer, "Then you really are the stupidest, most sexually ambivalent bitch on the face of this earth."

He let go then, giving her a slight shove that, along with sudden removal of his hand from her hair, cause her to lose her balance and crumple to the floor at his feet. She put a hand to her head, as if she could ease the pain by pushing the hair follicles back in place. When she finally looked up, he was glaring down at her. He looked angry, menacing. He looked … excited. He was waiting, she realized. Waiting for her to apologize, to beg and to grovel. That was what he wanted. Everything seemed very clear then. He wasn't confused. He wasn't hurt. He didn't care what the truth was. He wanted to hurt her. It made him feel good.

She placed both of her palms on the floor and pressed herself up so she was sitting on her knees. She sat quietly for several long moments … waiting … deciding. He paced around her. When she finally looked up at him, she wondered if her own eyes were as cold as his. She thought they must be. "Get out," she growled at him. "I want you out of my house. I want you out of my life. Don't ever come back, or I'll call the police. I swear to God, I will."

Shock, and even fear, flashed across his face, causing Maggie to feel her first small moment of strength, of hope. She stared harder, colder, as if she could burn through him with her eyes.

There was a split second when she saw the rage … saw it coming … bigger and louder than ever before. And even as it turned her blood cold, some hidden reserve, some survival instinct, kicked in – flight. She frantically crawled away from him, trying to put enough distance between them that she could stand and run.

She hadn't gotten more than a few feet away when the hand wrapped around her ankle, pulling her back until the knee came crashing down between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the floor. "Let me go," she cried. When he didn't, she screamed. She screamed louder than she had ever screamed in her entire life. She didn't yell for help. There weren't any words at all. Just loud, steady, piercing screaming. She felt the knee press harder into her back, cutting off her breath. He laughed then. He actually laughed at her.

"God, you really are stupid, aren't you," and she could hear the smile in his voice. "You think you can leave me. You think I'll let you be with someone else … anyone else … her?"

"That's not for you to decide," Maggie gasped out, amazing sounding not at all afraid.

It was then that she heard the click. When she lifted and turned her head to see where the noise had come from, Jonathan placed a palm against the side of her face and crushed it back down into the carpet. And her worst fears were realized when she felt the barrel of the gun pressed against the base of her skull. She was going to die. He could do it. He would do it. She didn't want to die. "Jonathan, don't," she whimpered.

Jonathan's voice was cold, cruel, condescending, "Now you want me, don't you Maggie? Want me to help you? Be with you? Love you?" There was a pause, and he pressed the gun more firmly against her skull, "You do, don't you Maggie?"

She was crying openly now. Even as she prepared to answer him, to give in, to beg for her life, she prayed for help. Then came the crash, the door banging against the apartment wall as it was flung open.

The instant she heard the noise, Maggie pressed her hands underneath her shoulders. And when Jonathan jerked back, startled, she reared back into him. She heard a satisfying crunch as the back of her skull crunched and shattered his nose. She sprang up when she heard him moan and crash backwards. And she ran.

"What the hell is going on in here!"

She ran straight into Bianca.

Bianca put her hands on Maggie's shoulders and looked into her eyes. There was instant recognition. Bianca nodded briefly, and they turned to go.

"Stop!" the yell sounded almost liquid as it gargled out of Jonathan. It was punctuated by a bullet crashing into the ceiling and a rain of plaster.

They turned slowly. Jonathan's face was a mess. Blood covered his chin and was running down his neck. But worse than the blood were his eyes.

Maggie felt Bianca's hand and arm reaching across her, pushing her back. Before she knew what was happening, Maggie found herself behind Bianca. She watched everything else from just behind Bianca's left shoulder, through a couple of hairs that had strayed out from behind her ear.

Bianca was standing up very straight and very tall. And she didn't seem afraid at all, though Maggie realized that she must be. She sounded calm, certain, forceful. "It's over Jonathan," she said, not unkindly. "Maggie and I are leaving."

There was silence at first. But then, after all that silence, he responded. Not to Bianca, but to her. His voice was angry, but also almost resigned. And that made his words all the more chilling, "You win. Do you hear me Maggie, you win." He was screaming now, "You want out? Here's out."

Even before she could process the words, Maggie knew that something terrible was going to happen. And Bianca knew too. At least that's what Maggie believed. After all, wasn't that why she had reached down and grabbed Maggie's hand?

It happened so fast. So fast, in fact, that Maggie couldn't figure out what had come first – the noise or Bianca collapsing against her. She knew what had come next though – the pain. The burning, searing pain in her shoulder as they slumped to the ground together. And the smell – the smell of burning flesh … hers … Bianca's.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Red … red … red.

Lily had her face in her hands and was rocking back and forth slightly as she sat on the park bench.

She was a bad detective. She hadn't gotten any answers. She had only made Jonathan red.

She was a bad girlfriend. Maybe Aiden would be red too. This made Lily even sadder, even though she couldn't quite imagine Aiden as red.

"Lily? Are you okay," the voice was soft … not red.

She looked up. Bianca. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Bianca sat down next to her … close but not touching … the way she liked. "What's wrong?"

"I'm a bad girlfriend," Lily said dejectedly.

"I'm sure Aiden thinks you're a great girlfriend," Bianca smiled, "He says so all the time."

"He does," Lily brightened for a moment. But just as quickly, she deflated. "Aiden and I are working on a case. He's a detective, and I'm helping him. I'm his partner … his partner and his girlfriend."

"Well if you're helping him, then it sounds like you're being a great girlfriend, Lily," Bianca said soothingly.

"No. No, no, no," Lily shook her head quickly and vigorously. "There was a puzzle, and I helped solve the puzzle. But there was more. Aiden had questions, but no answers. He needed answers, and I had to find them. But I didn't find them." She looked up at Bianca with imploring eyes, "You can't be a detective if you can't find the answers, can you Bianca?"

Bianca instinctively reached out to pat Lily's arm, but caught herself. Instead she tried to find words: clear, logical, straightforward words. "No detective finds all the answers, Lily. And just because you didn't find them today doesn't mean that you and Aiden won't find them later, together."

Lily seemed bolstered as she considered Bianca's words, but only for a moment, "But he won't answer my questions. Not ever. That's what he said." Lily stopped and wiped away a tear, "And I can't ask him again. He's red. I made him red. Very red."

Bianca's eyes went from amused to concerned. Lily did not like red. It meant loud or angry or scary or all three. "Who did you make red, Lily," Bianca asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Lily, embarrassed now, spoke into her lap, "Jonathan."

Bianca grabbed Lily's arm before she could stop herself, and Lily jumped in fright. "Did Jonathan hurt you, Lily?"

"He yelled at me," she said quietly. "He said I was a bad detective." As she continued, her words got faster and faster. "But I asked the questions, and that's what detectives do, right? They're supposed to ask the questions, and suspects are supposed to answer the questions. And I asked the questions, but he didn't answer the questions. So if I'm a bad detective, it's only because he is a bad suspect, right?"

"What did you ask Jonathan?" Bianca asked, half not wanting to hear the answer.

"I asked him the questions Aiden didn't have answers for," she responded matter-of-factly, and began ticking them off on her fingers, "I asked him who he really was. I asked him if he had another name. I asked him if he had drugs. I asked him if he was hiding something." Lily paused briefly, and Bianca felt her stomach drop. "But he wouldn't answer the questions. So then I asked him if Maggie was home … if I could ask her the questions since he didn't know the answers. And then he turned red. He was very red. He grabbed my arm. I don't like when people touch me. I screamed, and he let go, and I ran away." She looked sadly into Bianca's eyes, "Detectives aren't supposed to run away."

"Detectives are supposed to run away if they are scared," Bianca said reassuringly. "They are supposed to go get their back-up."

Lily's face brightened. "Aiden. Do you think Aiden will still want to be my back-up?"

"Sure, he will," Bianca tried to keep her voice steady. "In fact, why don't we call Aiden right now, okay? We'll call him before Maggie gets home," Bianca was already reaching for her phone, already dialing.

"Maggie is home," Lily corrected her, "I saw her going into the building as I was running out."

The color drained from Bianca's face. She tossed Lily her phone, "Call Aiden," she instructed Lily, "Have him meet me at Jonathan's house."

Lily caught the phone and looked up, but Bianca was already gone.

…

Red. It was everywhere. Splattered on the far wall and across the couch. Creeping towards her in a pool from the crumpled mass across the room.

She lifted her head, and pain seared through her. Her hand instinctively reached up and covered the spot where the pain was coming from … her chest. That only made it worse. She held that same hand in front of her face. It was covered in blood. She tried to look at her other hand, but it was tangled up in something. Maggie. Bianca squeezed the hand she was holding. There was no response.

Bianca tried to scream for help, but all that came out was soft gasp. She felt cold, and like she was floating. "Maggie," she called quietly. Her vision was going fuzzy now. She was even colder. Lily was right. Red was terrible … frightening … loud. She wished Miranda was with her.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Kendall's finger traced the rim of the glass then dipped down and stirred it's contents, rattling the ice. She raised the finger to her lips, licking it clean and feeling, with satisfaction, the slight burn on her tongue. She immediately felt guilty. But why? It wasn't like it was noon or something. Perfectly respectable people have a drink at 4:00 p.m. People were beginning to leave work … kids were out of school … it was practically happy hour, for god's sake. But Kendall knew this wasn't a drink. This was an escape … a way of running away while standing still, or sitting down, as the case may be.

She stared down into the amber liquid. Maybe Erica was right … maybe she'd never get over Ryan. Maybe she'd love him until she died. Who had died first? Romeo or Juliet? Juliet … another schemer burned by her own plans. Of course, Romeo never called Juliet a 'pathetic shell of a woman.' No. Ryan wouldn't be falling on his sword on her behalf.

…

"_What is wrong with you?" Ryan bellowed at her. But it was really more of an accusation than a question. "You have had it in for my brother from the moment he got to town … from the moment you slept with him to get back at ME," he snapped pointedly. "And even now you can't stop, can you? You're still trying to punish me. And you're still willing to use anyone to do it."_

_She opened her mouth to object, but Ryan held up a hand and talked over her._

"_And now you've dragged Greenlee, my own wife, into your vendetta. Do you even realize how pathetic that is? How pathetic you are, Kendall?"_

"_Ryan, stop," Greenlee entered the door behind him. She put a hand on his arm, "Let's just leave, okay?"_

_But Ryan's eyes never left Kendall. He looked, if that was possible, even angrier, "Greenlee and I do not need you to protect us. We do not need you to save us. And we sure as hell don't need you to lie for us. Playing on Greenlee's fears … lying for her … it's just another way of trying to get between us, isn't it Kendall?"_

_She didn't answer. She was stunned. She had only wanted to help Greenlee. That's why she had lied for her. Wasn't it? She was only able to ponder the question for about a split second before Ryan started in again._

"_Well, like all of your pitiful plans, it failed miserably," Ryan sneered at her. "Unlike you, Greenlee couldn't lie to me … couldn't scheme against me. Greenlee told me the truth as soon as we got home. Greenlee is on my side. She believes me about Jonathan. She trusts me."_

_Kendall stared at Greenlee in disbelief. Did Greenlee really believe that Jonathan was innocent? She couldn't. What the hell was she doing?_

_Ryan noted the confused look in Kendall's eyes. "That's right," he added smugly, "It's over. And that's why I came right back over here. So you would understand that it's over … all of it. Greenlee told me everything … about Aiden and about you. I said it before, but just so there's no mistake, understand this: if you interfere in my life, my marriage or, my family ever again, in any way, for any reason, you will regret it."_

_He turned back to Greenlee, "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said kindly. Then he stopped, considering his own words, "No. No, I'm not. I'm glad you're here. I love that you know me well enough to find me here, and that you love me enough to want to support me in this. It's just like we talked about at home," he went on, "I know you're sorry for what you did to her during Michael Cambius' trial. I know you're thankful for what she did for you on the balcony, whatever the reason. I know you'd like to be able to get back the friend who started Fusion with you. But she's gone, if she ever really existed at all." He paused and looked back at Kendall, "Kendall's never been anything but a shell. Not really. She's a pathetic shell of a woman. There's nothing inside her but raw anger and paranoia and hurt. And all the love in the world can't change that – it never has and it never will. She'll never let go. Not ever. That's who she is."_

_He turned back to Greenlee, taking a few steps towards her, smiling and even leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek. "But we …we are man and wife. We love each other. And my whole life is worthwhile because of that. You saved me. You saved me from her and all the ugliness inside of her. Let's go." He turned back to Kendall, cold as ice, "There's nothing left for us here. There's nothing at all, not for anyone. _

_Greenlee said nothing, but her eyes were steady, understanding, supportive. She looked at Kendall only briefly before turning and walking out of the apartment. Ryan went with her, never turning back at all._

…

She had tried very hard not to cry, and not to look like she was going to cry. But she had been successful only on the first count. She knew that because of Greenlee's eyes held so much pity in that final moment when she looked over at her. Even now, hours later, the hurt burned inside of her.

But she knew one thing. Even in that moment, feeling more humiliated than she ever had before … which in and of itself was no small feat … , and even now, still feeling the sting, it was there. That thing that was more than a feeling: an instinct, a premonition, a fundamental absolute – she was right. She knew it! Maybe Greenlee loved Ryan in a way that she did not … a way that could overcome that feeling. Or, as incredible as it seemed, maybe after hearing Ryan out about Jonathan, Greenlee really did believe him. But Greenlee was wrong.

Unfortunately, it made absolutely no difference – she still felt small, alone. She picked up the glass and held it up, toasting, "Have at it," with a cheeriness that rang especially hollow, "Happy perfect life." She took a long, slow drink.

Just as she cringed against the burning in her throat, her phone rang. She rifled through her purse looking for it, "Probably Ryan and Greenlee phoning to call me a worthless drunk," she deadpanned aloud.

But it wasn't Ryan or Greenlee. It was Aiden.

"Where are you?" he asked quickly.

"I was just about to call you," she exclaimed with delight that continued on into her next words, "You're fired! I'm officially out of the helping my exes business … ex-boyfriends, ex-friends, ex-co-workers. I'm out, out, out!"

"Where are you?" Aiden asked again.

"I'm at the Valley Inn celebrating my independence," she retorted happily.

Aiden cringed, "Are you alone?" he asked quickly.

She huffed in irritation. "Yes, as usual, Kendall's alone," she barked back, annoyance and embarrassment shattering her moment of fun.

She heard the air rush out of Aiden, as if he had been holding his breath, "Good," he said quickly. She frowned at the phone. "Kendall. I want you to leave. Right now. Don't stop. Don't talk to anyone. Don't tell anyone where you're going."

"Can't this wait?" Kendall sighed with exasperation, "I'm in the middle of something very important."

"Kendall, please," the desperation creeped into Aiden's voice, piquing her interest, "You have to listen to me. It's very important."

"Is this about Jonathan?" Kendall asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Yes," Aiden replied, desperate to get her to listen to him.

"Did you find something out?" she sounded almost giddy, "You found something out, didn't you? You are the best, Aiden. The absolute best! Wait until I tell Greenlee."

"No," Aiden yelled into the phone, but quickly steadied himself. "Kendall, please. Please listen to me. Go behind the bar, through the kitchen and out the back door into the alley. Wait there for me. I'm already on my way."

"Now you're scaring me," Kendall said, her words softer.

"Please just do it. Right now. Promise me you will."

Kendall smiled into the phone, suddenly feeling so much less alone. "Okay, okay. You win Mr. Super Detective." She stood and headed across the room, "I'm walking to the kitchen right now, as we speak. Satisfied?"

He sighed with relief, "Yes, thank you Kendall. Please don't stop. Please come straight to me."

"Okay, okay," Kendall teased, hanging up the phone, "Here I come."

As she pushed her way through the kitchen, Kendall smiled to herself. Aiden had come through again. They were finally going to nail Jonathan Lavery. Let's see how paranoid and delusional and vindictive and pathetic Ryan thought she was then. She was right! She knew it! As she emerged out the back door, Kendall popped open her phone, eager to say her first 'I told you so' – the first of many. She would start with Greenlee.

The squealing of tires as Aiden's car pealed into the alley stopped her. What the hell was he doing?

In a matter of seconds, he had pulled up along side her. "Give me the phone," he already had his hand out the window.

Kendall instinctively yanked her hand away from him, "What has gotten into you?"

"I asked you not to call anyone," he barked at her. "Did you call someone?"

She looked at him then. Really looked. He looked … terrible. Before she realized what she was doing, she handed him the phone. "What's going on Aiden?" Her voice was quiet, full of trepidation.

"Please get in the car, Kendall," he sounded tired, tired and far away.

She nodded and walked around to the passenger side of the car.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Erica looked up as Kendall and Aiden entered her office. "Finally," she turned towards Jackson, her eyes full of irritation. "_Now _can you finally talk to me," she sniped at him.

Jackson looked over at Aiden, who nodded encouragingly at him.

"Kendall, honey," he came over and put an arm around her, ushering her towards the sofa where Erica was sitting. "Come sit with your mother and me."

As she looked up at Jackson, the confusion and fear that had started in the alley behind the Valley Inn continued to grow. She sat and watched anxiously as Jackson took a seat in the chair facing them. Aiden stayed across the room, standing by the closed door like a sentry.

Jackson began, he eyes down in his lap, "About an hour ago, Aiden and I were at Maggie's apartment." He looked up at Erica and then Kendall. Erica's expression was pure 'so what,' but Kendall's eyes flashed with recognition.

"Is this about Jonathan?" Kendall asked, looking first at Jackson and then back at Aiden.

Jackson nodded slowly, "Yes, honey. It is."

"I knew it! I knew it!" Kendall muttered under her breath. Erica eyed her with confusion.

Jackson turned to Erica, "Greenlee thought Jonathan was the person who was drugging her. She told Kendall." Jackson looked at Kendall for confirmation, and she nodded.

"Greenlee! This is about Greenlee!" Erica rose from the couch dramatically, "Honestly, Jackson," she rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Your daughter is deliberately hurtful to Kendall. Well," she paused for effect, "Maybe not 'deliberately.' I actually think that it's more of a selfish haze she walks around in." Erica smiled, amused by her own rant, but quickly frowned again, "But that doesn't matter. The effect is still the same – to hurt Kendall. And I've had it! I've had it Jackson!"

He began to stand, to try to stop her, but she glared him into silence.

"I've tried. God knows, I've tried. But it isn't any use," Erica's voice rose as she gained momentum, "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Kendall, Jackson. We – me and my girls – we need Greenlee out of our lives. She nothing but a hurtful, destructive force. She has no idea how to behave … no respect … no compassion. You can have her in your life … you should have her in your life. But not us. Greenlee and Ryan and their family, whatever it turns out to be, should leave us alone, and we'll do the same."

When Jackson met Erica's rant with prolonged silence, she finally sat down. "Well, that's how I feel," she declared without apology.

Kendall smiled into her lap. Having Erica stand up for her was something that she never could quite get used to … every time was like an amazing, unbelievable gift.

Jackson continued on in his same careful, controlled voice, as if Erica had never spoken, "Greenlee and Kendall hired Aiden to investigate Jonathan," and his sober tone quieted Erica. "But they weren't the only ones who were worried about Jonathan." Kendall perked up at this. "Bianca and Reggie were worried about Jonathan too. They thought he had hit Maggie."

Erica's eyes grew wide.

"I knew it!" Kendall whispered fiercely. "I knew there was something wrong with him, seriously wrong."

But Jackson continued on before Kendall could launch into her story. "You were right, Kendall" he nodded at her. He paused, gathering himself before continuing, "Did you know that Lily has a crush on Aiden?" he asked Kendall, "That she calls him her boyfriend?"

Kendall frowned at the seeming irrelevance of that fact.

Erica smiled over at Aiden then looked back at Kendall, "They are quite a pair."

"Yes," Jackson said, smiling at Aiden, "Aiden has been wonderful to Lily." He took another deep breath and continued, "The thing is … Lily, she knew that Aiden was investigating Jonathan, and she wanted to help."

"Oh my god!" Erica sprang up, "Is Lily okay? Did that monster hurt Lily?"

Jackson stood and guided Erica back down to the couch. "Lily's fine. She tried to ask Jonthan questions … to be a detective. Jonathan only scared her. Bianca found Lily in the park. She helped Lily and called Aiden."

"We have to tell Ryan," Erica insisted.

"Fat lot of good that's going to do," Kendall huffed. "I told Ryan that Jonathan was trouble, but he doesn't believe me."

"Well, we'll make him believe," Erica insisted, "We can't let him get away with this or let him hurt anyone else."

"That doesn't matter now," Jackson interrupted.

"Yes it does," Kendall chimed in, "I still think Jonathan drugged Greenlee, and now Ryan and Greenlee will have to admit that I'm right."

"And what about Maggie," Erica added, "We can't let him continue to hurt Maggie."

Jackson closed his eyes, composing himself. He opened them only after he had started talking, "There was an altercation," Jackson admitted. He looked at Erica, "Between Maggie and Jonathan. Bianca was there too. It was very bad."

"An altercation," Erica repeated dubiously, "Bianca? Bianca's hurt, isn't she Jackson?"

Jackson nodded, biting his lip to try to stop the tears from coming.

"Bianca," Erica whispered. In a flash, she was off the couch and waving her arms in a panic, "Bianca!" she yelled as she looked around the room at everything and nothing, "What the hell are we doing? Why have we been sitting her for half an hour in my office when Bianca is hurt? That is what you're saying, isn't it Jackson? We have to go. I have to be with her … with Bianca. We have to go right now!"

She got up and rushed past him, but Aiden caught her half way to the door and turned her around. Jackson walked towards her. Kendall followed him in a state of stunned confusion.

"I wanted to tell you here," Jackson began, his voice finally cracking as he looked from Erica to Kendall and then back again. "I wanted to be the one who told you, and I wanted us to be alone … all of us," he motioned to Kendall, "Alone together."

Erica started backing up, as if putting distance between herself and Jackson's words. Her eyes grew wider as her head shook back and forth, an inaudible 'no.' She stopped only when her back hit the closed office door.

Jackson headed towards her, reaching out, "Jonathan shot at Maggie and Bianca. Bianca was hit in the heart. It was very fast. I don't think she felt any pain."

"What are you saying to me, Jackson," Erica's words were slow, careful.

"Bianca is gone, sweetheart," he closed the final few steps between them and gathered her up in his arms, the tears flowing now, "Our girl is gone."


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Why am I here?" Ryan demanded.

Derek Frye bit back his dislike for the tall handsome man in front of him, but just barely. And it wasn't easy. After all, his opinion of Ryan was the product of a thousand little stones the younger man had cast at him and his department since he returned to Pine Valley. Even this moment now, Lavery storming into his office, smug and condescending, demanding answers, echoed in his mind like déjà vu with dozens of others. How many times had Ryan accused him of incompetence? How many times had he been threatened by the Cambius money and power? How many sneering, disrespectful barbs had been thrown his way? Disruptions … disparagements … disrespect. Now those stone were a wall. A wall he could topple onto Ryan Lavery, crushing him in every way that mattered.

He indulged the fantasy for only the briefest of moments. Then, he thought of Olivia. Then, he spoke.

"Please sit down Ryan," Derek Frye motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

Ryan rolled his eyes in exasperation and sat down. "Fine," he snapped, "Now. Why am I here?"

"It's about your brother, Jonathan," Derek began carefully.

Fury immediately overcame Ryan, "Oh my god! There is no depth to which Kendall will not sink." He looked up at Derek, his words coming faster and faster, "She dragged you into this, didn't she? Told you all of her paranoid fantasies. Jonathan is not drugging my wife. He hasn't done anything wrong other than get caught up in Kendall's wrath. She's just using him to get back at me. You can't believe anything she says."

Derek leaned forward. His eyes narrowed, "Kendall thinks Jonathan is the one who was drugging Greenlee?"

Ryan's voice grew even louder, "It's a scam. Kendall's just …," he waved his hands frantically, looking for the word, "Being Kendall. She's just trying to get back at me for moving on with my life without her. Maybe she's covering up for Ethan Ramsey in the bargain, maybe she did it herself. Who knows?" Ryan frowned at the serious look Derek had on his face. Surely he couldn't be taking Kendall seriously? "Kendall's a pathetic, vindictive liar. You can't believe a word she says, especially about Jonathan."

Derek bristled at the harsh words. "This isn't about Kendall," he said as he jotted something down on a notepad on his desk.

Ryan frowned at the notepad, "Then what is this about?" he asked.

Derek stared at him for several long moments before beginning, "There was a incident at your brother's apartment, the one he shares with Maggie Stone."

Ryan leaned forward, "What kind of _incident_?"

Derek took a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap back, "Look. There's no easy way to say this. From what we could piece together, it appears that your brother and Ms. Stone were having a fight. A bad one." Ryan flashed Derek a look of disbelief, but Derek continued on before he could interrupt, "One of the neighbors actually called the police. But before the police got there, Bianca Montgomery did. We don't know exactly what happened then, but the fight escalated."

"What?" Ryan shook his head, "This doesn't make any sense."

Derek continued on, "Your brother fired a gun at the girls. Because of the way they were standing, the bullet hit both of them. Then he turned the gun on himself."

Ryan popped out of his chair and began pacing in the small space available in Derek's office, "What are you talking about? Jonathan?" He gathered himself, "You're saying that my brother Jonathan shot Maggie and Bianca and then …."

"Killed himself," Derek finished for him.

Ryan slumped back into the chair, "This can't be happening. I don't believe this is happening."

Derek walked around the desk, sat in the chair next to Ryan and put a reassuring arm on his shoulder, "Listen. I know this is shock, and it's a lot to take in. I'm going to try to do everything I can to help you, but you've got to help me too."

Ryan looked up at Derek, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Well, to start with, I'd like you to identify the body." He looked right into Ryan's eyes, "I'm not going to lie to you, it's not a pretty sight. But getting the body identified is the first step in getting some closure on this situation."

"_Just cry … if you cry he'll stop,' _Ryan heard the voice in his head. It sounded young, scared, like a little boy … like a girl. Ryan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. His head was spinning. He scowled at Derek, "My brother is dead. How much more _closure_ is there?"

"I don't mean for your brother," Derek responded quietly.

"Well maybe I don't want closure, or your help getting it," Ryan growled at him.

"This isn't just about you," Derek replied, a bit of disgust now in his face, "It's about the girls."

Ryan sat deep in thought for several long moments before suddenly bounding up, "The girls," he practically shrieked, "I have to talk to Maggie and Bianca. We have to," he motioned for Derek to get up out of his chair and follow him out of the office. "This is all wrong. They'll tell us what really happened. My brother loved Maggie. They were getting married. There has got to be an explanation for all this. We have to go talk to them … to the girls. We have to go now."

"We can't," Derek replied calmly, motioning for Ryan to sit back down.

Ryan's face reddened, "God, it's always the same with you guys." He paced in a small circle before continuing, "Maybe you can't go, but I can. I'm going to talk to Bianca and Maggie."

"Ryan," Derek said with more force, "That is not going to be possible."

"What? The police finally decide to do something, and it's stop me from learning the truth about how my brother died," Ryan's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Derek's temper threatened to flair. He walked to the door, shutting it firmly. He took a deep breath before turning and addressing Ryan. It was the voice of authority, the voice of cold, hard facts. "The girls can't talk to you Ryan. Bianca is dead, and Maggie is in a coma. You and I are going down to the morgue to identify the body, and then we're going to have a long talk about your brother." Derek paused, giving Ryan a moment to digest the words. When he continued on, there was even more cop in his voice, "You don't want my help? Fine. You're on your own. But I am getting closure for those girls. I've already promised. And if I need your help to get it, you'll give it … one way or another."

…

"I would like to be alone with her," Erica said, looking at no one in particular. She didn't wait for an answer. She just turned and headed into the hospital room. Before anyone could react, she was gone.

Jackson breathed an audible sigh of relief at finally hearing words ... any words ... come from Erica. He still wasn't sure that she had heard anything that Joe Martin had just said, but at least she had spoken. Three hours ago, back in her office, she had said, 'Take me to my daughter,' in a voice that ripped out his heart. But since then … nothing. Erica was silent on the drive over to the hospital. She was silent while Derek Frye told them what few details the police knew. And she was silent afterwards. She was silent in the morgue. Perhaps she had spoken later, when they had left her alone with the body, but Jackson didn't think so. Her silence made her unrecognizable to Jackson. Was that to be the legacy of Bianca's death? The thought haunted him. Would she be changed forever? Lost to him? Would they all?

As horrible as it was, Jackson knew that he could survive Bianca's death. Even the worst of this day – the phone call from Aidan, waiting in the office to tell Erica the truth, Kendall wailing on the floor of the morgue, the blood still pooled on Maggie's floor – these things would fade, replaced by images of the girl he loved. But only if he had his family. He thought about all of the strength and patience it had taken to cobble them together into a family, and all of the screaming and arguing and jealousy along the way. It was his life's work – this family – but it didn't work without Erica. And so he prayed that those words were the beginning of her recovery. He needed her. They all needed her.

…

_Derek Frye was waiting outside the door to the morgue._

_"I know this is terrible," Derek said compassionately, looking first at Erica and then Kendall, "But it needs to be done. It's the first step in getting closure." _

_Kendall's eyes flared, "Jonathan Lavery murdered my sister and then killed himself. He ran away like a coward, and he took our lives with him I don't want closure!"_

_Derek's demeanor remained calm, but his voice got ever-so-slightly more businesslike as he turned and looked Kendall in the eye, "This is how we make it official. It's how we tell the story for Bianca." His lip curled up into what was almost a snarl, "This is how we tell the world what Jonathan Lavery was and what he took from all of you."_

_Kendall's eyes grew wide, but never wavered, even as they filled with tears. She did not feel better. Nothing could make her feel better. But she did feel shored up by Derek's words … and by his sincerity. She reached out and grabbed his hand, "We'll do whatever you want. Anything." _

_A small smile appeared on Derek's face as he nodded his appreciation.._

_Kendall nodded back._

_"Let's go in then," Derek announced to the group._

_If Erica heard Derek's words, she didn't acknowledge them. She just continued to stare through the small square pane of glass in the door of the morgue, utterly still and utterly silent._

_Derek finally reached around her and opened the door._

…

As soon as Erica entered the hospital room, she leaned back against the door, closing it firmly. She was reluctant to move her body and expose the large rectangular window behind it. If there had been a way, she would have drawn a curtain across it. She didn't want anyone looking in. They meant well. They all meant so well. But they couldn't help her. Not now … not just yet. The only person who could help her was in this room.

Erica walked along the side of the bed then, finally sitting on the edge. She reached out, as if she might grab the girl's hand, but stopped herself, settling for pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping. The thought bolstered Erica. Sleeping people woke up.

"I know you can hear me, Maggie," Erica began softly, "It's Erica. And I need you to wake up." Erica paused as if Maggie might obey her command immediately, "Please wake up darling."

Silence followed, and Erica studied the girl, as if deciding whether to go on. She looked over at the heart monitor, listening to the steady, mechanical beep as she watched the line representing Maggie's heartbeat spike over and over. Maggie's heart sounded strong.

Erica leaned closer to her, "You see, Maggie. Here's the thing," her tone was hushed, conspiratorial. "You're the only one who can help me. You're the only one who can tell me what really happened. Jackson and Derek and Aidan … they're all trying to help. But they're just guessing really. And they're trying to protect me." Erica grabbed Maggie's hand then, "And I don't want to be protected." She looked down at the comatose girl – such a good friend to Bianca – and continued, "And I don't think you want to be protected either. You need the truth, and I can give it to you." Erica stopped then, turning back to the door. She stared at it for several long moments, daring an intrusion, before finally turning back.

"I was worried," Erica began, her voice cracking, "I was so worried. I was worried she was down there, cold and alone with a hole in her heart." The tears started then, silently running down her cheeks. "I went into that room to see her … to be with her. So at least she wouldn't be alone. It seemed so important. I thought it would matter." Erica paused again as she struggled for the right words. "And I was so angry at Jackson for waiting to tell me what happened. I felt like all of those moments were more moments when Bianca was alone and scared."

"But I was wrong, Maggie. I was so wrong. I waited and waited down there, down in that room. I waited to feel my daughter … to feel anything. But there was nothing. And I thought, 'This is what it is going to be like now. There will be nothing. A forever of nothingness in my heart where Bianca used to be.' But then I went back up to the E.R. waiting room to find Kendall and Jackson. I went back to where there were people and voices and life, and then I could hear her."

Erica scooted closer to Maggie, grabbing the small girl's hand with both of her own. Her voice dropped further, "I heard her, and then I knew. It wasn't Bianca in that cold lonely room, Maggie. She wasn't there. Not really. She was already gone," Erica nodded at her own words, "She was never there." A broad smile now shone across Erica's face. "So you don't have to worry either, Maggie. Bianca's not cold, and she's not alone. She's already with Mona." Erica nodded encouragingly, as if the girl were actually reacting to her words, "And there's more, Maggie. I could hear her voice then. She wanted so much to talk to you back there. She loved you so much. And she wants you to know that she's safe, and she's loved. She doesn't want you to worry about her any more. She wants you to wake up. She wants you to live. She wants you to be happy and to know her daughter. That what she needs Maggie ... what she needs to have peace."

Erica stopped and wiped away the tears, "And she's sorry. She says she's sorry that she wasn't there sooner. I don't know what that means, Maggie. But I'm guessing you do. So that's why you need to wake up. I want to do this last thing for my daughter, Maggie … to fulfill her last wish. We can do it together."

Erica looked at all of the tubes and wires pouring in and out of the small girl. Was she scared? How long had she been alone? Maggie seemed so very small to Erica then. So small and so alone. Who would be there when she woke up? Who would tell her that Bianca was dead? Who would look out for this girl that Bianca loved so dearly? Why was there only Bianca's family outside that door? Where was Maggie's family? The realization hit her mercilessly.

She stood then. And her words to the comatose girl were harsh, almost steely, "You're not part of that family anymore." She made her way to the foot of the bed and looked down on the still form. Her face was steady ... tearless ... resolute. "You're my daughter now. And it's time to wake up."


	7. Chapter Six

_A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews. The next few chapters may come out more slowly, but if people are still reading, I'll keep going. I was glad to see that people were sympathizing with so many different characters. Rather than simply declaring characters good or bad, I really wanted to look at the overlapping and competing notions of love and loyalty and family – and the consequences of selfish acts done in their name. This chapter should end the last of the character introduction and basic set up, and then we'll start colliding everyone together. _

Chapter Six

Greenlee let out a frustrated scream before flinging the phone violently into the couch. What the hell was going on? She had gotten his voicemail again. Where was Ryan?

It had now been hours that she had been storming around the apartment cursing Kendall and Aidan. Ryan was wrapped up in their drama again. She was sure of it. Why couldn't they … all of them: Aidan, Kendall, Jonathan, Bianca, Zack, Ethan, Erica, Maria … just stay out of her life? They were like vultures, all trying to grab a piece of Ryan. They wanted his help or his love. They wanted to use him or crush him. They wanted to give to him or take from him. They wanted to blame him or praise him. And they all acted like it was the most important thing in the world. Wouldn't they ever get it? She was Ryan's wife. She and Ryan came first for each other. Hadn't they proven that a thousand times over: the well, their wedding, today when they discussed Jonathan? Nothing was going to change that. These people … all of them … needed to get their own life.

And as the time had continued to pass, she even began to fume at Ryan. Why couldn't he just let all of them go? He didn't need them ... any of them ... and especially not Kendall. Every time she tried to be nice, Kendall responded by trying to grab onto Ryan a little tighter. She had felt sorry for Kendall at the apartment, but not anymore. Yes, she could see now, now more than ever, that Ryan was right. Kendall was pathetic.

…

Kendall stared at the hospital room door. Erica had still not come out. She held Miranda a little tighter. The child giggled and flapped her arms in response. When Anita first handed Miranda to her, Kendall had actually considered handing the child right back. She was afraid, afraid it was be too much, that she would break down again, like in the morgue, or even worse. She didn't want Miranda to be scared. She didn't want to be the one who scared her. But, Kendall's fears were for naught. She didn't scare Miranda. If anything, the child was even more healthy and happy and animated than usual. As far as she was concerned, everything was fine. Perhaps that should have consoled Kendall, and in a way it did. And yet, she saw the awful truth underneath. Miranda would not remember her mother. Bianca would be like a princess in a fairy tale to the girl. And you couldn't know a fairy princess. Not really.

And it was then, that for the second time that day, something else took root in Kendall's despair. The first was the spark outside the morgue with Derek Frye, a desire for truth and justice and vengeance maybe even. This was the same, and yet different … truth and justice and love maybe even. She looked again at the door, and, for the first time, she was happy that Erica had not emerged. She understood, or thought she did anyway. She could help Bianca too.

The urge that overcame her then was so strong … stronger even perhaps than the despair. She had to see Bianca. She had to tell her.

She stood up and surveyed the room for someone to take Miranda. Aidan was busy with the police. Jackson was distracted by the still-closed hospital room door. Myrtle was shaking, though she was trying to hide it. When the elevator beeped, Kendall looked up, hoping to see Anita or Ethan. Instead, it was JR, with Ace in his arms, and Babe who emerged.

…

When the phone finally rang, it actually startled her. She dove at the couch, tearing through the pillows and cushions to dig it out before the voicemail system clicked on. "Ryan, where are you?" she demanded.

"Greenlee?" the voice, not Ryan, came back.

Greenlee rolled her eyes and let out a huff of frustration, "Who is this?"

"Is this Greenlee?" the voice asked.

"Yes," she drew the word out sarcastically, "Isn't this my number you called?"

"This is Derek Frye." There was no reaction to Greenlee's barb.

"Oh my god. Something has happened to Ryan, hasn't it?" Greenlee started frantically pacing around the room, chastising herself.

"Ryan is fine," Derek assured her, though it was not technically true. He tried again, "He's not hurt." That wasn't true either.

"I've been trying to find him," words poured out of Greenlee mouth, faster and faster, "I've been calling everywhere I can think of, but all I get is voicemail, voicemail, voicemail. I told Ryan to just let it go, but he was so angry, I think he may have ..."

Derek didn't have time for this. He interrupted, "Greenlee." She continued talking. "Greenlee!" The louder, harsher version of her name finally got her attention.

He got straight to the point, in case he was interrupted again. "Jonathan killed himself," Derek began carefully, "Ryan is down at the morgue. I think you'd better come down here."

"What?" Greenlee immediately began scanning the room for her coat and purse, which she scooped up as she spoke to Derek. "Thank you so much for calling, Derek. I'm going to the morgue right now. Goodbye."

"Greenlee, wait. Wait!"

Greenlee heard the frantic voice as she lowered the phone from her ear, but she ignored it. She didn't have any more time to waste on the likes of Derek Frye. Ryan needed her. She was his wife. She was the only one who could help him.

Their eyes met. Kendall watched confusion, and then concern, sweep across JR's face. He turned and scanned the room, and when he looked back at Kendall, he knew something was wrong. Very wrong. He headed towards her. As he neared, Miranda reached out toward him with both of her arms. JR never broke stride as he handed his own son to Babe and … without hesitation, without a word … scooped up Miranda and hugged her against his chest. Relieved and overcome, Kendall buried her head in her hands. She sensed JR sitting down next to her and then felt Miranda's hand patting at her hair.

She looked up, but did not answer the question in his eyes. "I'll just be a few minutes. I promise," she said to JR as she rubbed Miranda's head.

He nodded and a small, sad smile appeared, "Take as long as you need."

As she stood, Babe took a step back. The two stared at each other, the air charged. "Kendall?" Babe looked around the room, picking up on the distress, "What is … what is going … ?"

JR reached up from his chair and put a hand on Babe's arm. Once he had her attention, he shook his head 'no' to her. When Babe looked back, Kendall was already striding away to the elevator.

JR watched Kendall go, relieved that there hadn't been a scene. He didn't know what was wrong, but he suspected it had something to do with Bianca, who was nowhere in sight. If that was the case, and even if it wasn't, having Babe around wasn't going to help matters.

He looked back at Babe, who was looking down at Miranda. What was she thinking? How did she live with herself? How did he? They had made it through Ace's checkup together, maybe that was enough for now. "Why don't you go, Babe. Take the baby. It's okay. Call Jamie to pick you up," he said, surprising himself.

"No," she was looking not at JR, but around the room. She didn't like the vibe, and she too had noticed Bianca's absence. Maybe it was a mistake, but she said it anyway, "I think I'd like to stay, if that's okay." Then, without waiting for an answer, she sat down next to him.

JR watched Miranda's face scrunch up in delight at the sight of the other baby, and she immediately began reaching out to him, giggling happily. Babe and JR both looked up then, and their eyes met over the heads of the babies.

Kendall watched them as the elevator doors closed. She hated Babe, now more than ever perhaps. After all, what Babe took from Bianca was now so much bigger, more significant. What percentage of the time that Bianca was alive and able to be Miranda's mother had Babe stolen? 70? 80? It was an unspeakable, unpardonable theft. And yet, watching the two babies, Kendall did feel a moment of happiness. Because that too was what Bianca had wanted once upon a time.

…

Standing before the door of the morgue, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Last time, she was overcome by the sight of Bianca. She had heard Jackson's words in Erica's office, but they hadn't registered as truth, not really. Not until she had seen her. Because Bianca did not look like she was peaceful or sleeping. She looked dead … cold and alone and dead. Kendall had crumpled to the floor … crying, keening even. She couldn't form a word, or even a thought. There was only pain. Jackson had finally ushered her out of the room. It was too much for everyone, she supposed, to see her like that. And she had been ashamed. Her mother hadn't spoken at all and was now holed up in Maggie Stone's hospital room. But they both couldn't shut down, Kendall realized. Bianca needed them … Miranda needed them.

She entered the room slowly, but steadily. She stared straight at the drawer that she knew held Bianca. When she finally stood in front of it, she laid a palm flat against the steel door. It was so cold. She jerked her hand back and, before she could lose her nerve, she pulled up on the latch and pulled the door open. Next, she pulled out the rack that held her sisters body. It took several more deep breaths before she could bring herself to unzip the bag, but eventually, she did it. She pushed the edges back enough to see her sister's face and neck. There was bruising at the base of her neck. And though Kendall knew that she could follow that bruising down to the hole left by the bullet that killed her sister, she did not do so. She didn't need to see it to know that Bianca was dead. And she didn't need to see it to know what she had to do.

She ran the back of her hand along Bianca's cheek. It too was cold. "I didn't mean to forget to say goodbye," she began in a whisper. "And I'm sorry I made a scene," she continued, with a chuckle, "But I'm always making scenes. You know that."

She smiled down at Bianca, "I know what you would want. I think I do, anyway." Kendall shook her head, almost ruefully, and looked up, at nothing, "And I just don't know if I can do it, Bianca. I can't promise that I won't try to make them pay … everyone who hurt you." Kendall looked back down at her sister then, resolute, "But I can promise you this. I promise that loving the people you loved – Mom, Jack, Maggie, Miranda – I promise to put that first. Especially Miranda. I'll make sure that no one ever hurts her … not because of who her father is … not because of what happened after she was born … not for any reason. I promise, Bianca. I'll try to let go of what I can. I won't be pathetic or vindictive or a liar. I'll put her first. I'll be a good …," her voice finally cracked then and the tears started, "I'll be a good mother."

She could not bring herself to zip the bag closed. She shut the drawer only because she couldn't stand the thought of Bianca out there alone, exposed. The loud, metallic echo of the latch catching forced a gasp from Kendall. That gasp was echoed by a moan from across the room.

She jumped at the sound.

He was there - Ryan. Sitting with his back pressed into the corner of room. His elbows were on his knees, his head resting in his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red. Trails of tears were visible on both sides of his face.

She stood frozen, staring at him. It was too much … too many emotions … it was happening again, overload. She couldn't let it happen again. She couldn't fall to pieces. She had promised Bianca.

She turned and ran, her high heels clicking on the morgue's tile floor.

She ran straight into Greenlee.

…

"You!" Greenlee spat the word, her voice full of contempt, "I should have known you'd be here. Don't you ever quit?"

Kendall, stunned, retreated several steps.

Ryan watched from where he was curled up in the corner of the morgue. What the hell had Kendall done to him, Greenlee wondered. Thank god she had gotten here when she did. She stormed over to Kendall, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her towards the door, "You don't belong here, Kendall. This is the time for me and Ryan to be there for each other. I am Ryan's wife. I am the one who will help him though this. Me!

Kendall watched as Ryan began to rise. _"You're a pathetic, vindictive liar." _ He was on his feet now, moving closer. _"__"There's nothing left for us here. There's nothing at all, not for anyone."_

Greenlee followed Kendall's eyes and, seeing Ryan approaching, tried once more to give Kendall the shove that would finally push her out of the room. Instead, Kendall shrugged her off and gave her a shove that backed her all the way back against the door herself.

"Get out of here." Kendall looked at Greenlee only briefly, then back at Ryan. Her voice was quiet, but menacing. Greenlee actually leaned forward a bit to hear her. "Get out of here and take her with you," Kendall growled, pointing back at Greenlee. "I don't want you two here in this room with her."

Though confused by Kendall's words, Greenlee shot back, "You don't tell Ryan and I where we can be." But she said nothing further, watching as Ryan quickly made his way over to her. Waiting for words, she was stunned when Ryan had grabbed her upper arm and ushered her the final steps to the doorway.

Greenlee dug in her heels, "We are not going anywhere," she growled, straining to look around Ryan's body at Kendall, "What is going on Ryan? Why are you letting her do this?" When Ryan let go of her, and Greenlee waited for his response.

Ryan, eyes red and face disconcerted and lost, opened his mouth to speak, but when he looked back at Kendall, she held up a hand, silencing him. "I don't want you here in this room with what's left of her." Her next words were louder, forceful and booming, "I want you out of this hospital. Away from all of us who have to clean up the mess of the not-pathetic, not-vindictive, not-empty shell Lavery family."

Confusion washed over Greenlee's face, "Ryan? What is she talking about?"

Ryan didn't answer. He turned to go, ushering Greenlee with him.

Greenlee looked back over her shoulder, meeting Kendall's cold eyes, "What is going on? What is she talking about? Ryan? Ryan?"

Kendall could still hear Greenlee saying Ryan's name as the large steel door closed. And then, mercifully, there was silence.

She didn't know how long it took, and she didn't hear the door reopen.

"Kendall?" Zack's voice was soft, careful." When she didn't answer, or even turn towards him, he continued, "Shall we go back upstairs and check on your mother?"

She turned towards him then, eyes wide, looking small and frail and utterly spent. She nodded wordlessly and headed towards him.

As she approached, he was struck by the knowledge that somewhere in this cold, sterile room was Bianca Montgomery's body. Had the Cambius curse finally caught up with even her? He thought not. This was something else. Miranda, the light and the hope of so many had been attacked on all sides … by the Carey and the Laverys and the Haywards of the world. You didn't survive the Cambius curse only to be brought down by the selfish and the weak. That Zack knew. And for the first time, Zack felt like a father, or at least the patriarch. Yes, he thought, as the door closed behind he and Kendall, he would avenge his family.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Jack let the hospital room door close behind him. For several minutes, he did nothing but watch. He did this despite the fact that he had entered the room determined not to watch, but to finally take action. To steady himself, he ran through each of his arguments in his head. They were solid arguments … not just logical, but sensible, necessary, healthy.

"Darling," Jack's voice was soothing, "We can't delay this any longer."

Erica didn't answer, but she closed her eyes against Jack's words, as if she could cancel them out. In that moment, she made a wish. But it wasn't granted. When she opened her eyes, Maggie remained still and silent.

"It's been five days," Jack continued, and though he paused to give Erica time to respond, she did not. "It's not fair, Erica. It's not fair to keep making everyone wait."

"Not fair?" Erica said quietly as she stood, turned and glared at him. "Not fair?" This time the words were louder, harsher and full of sarcasm. She swept an arm out in front of her body, "Go ahead, Jack. This should be very enlightening. I'd love for you to explain to me how we can make Bianca's funeral _fair." Jack stood by quietly, "C'mon, Jack," Erica continued, moving towards him, "_Tell me." She paused for a moment before snapping, "I'm waiting."

Jackson took a step back, but he was not deterred. This was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. "There's nothing fair or right about Bianca's death, Erica. I know that. You don't think I know that?" hurt eased into his voice, causing Erica's face to soften. "But this," he shook his head at Erica's chair at the side of Maggie's bed, "All of this waiting, it's making things worse … for Myrtle, for Kendall, for Reggie ... and so many others."

Erica didn't respond, but her chin dropped toward her chest, and he heard the air rush out of her. Jack could see that she was listening, really listening. He closed the distance between them and gathered her up in his arms. The next words he said into her hair as he hugged her, "Don't you see, Erica? This is part of it. Part of how they start dealing with Bianca's death. The ritual, the gathering, the formal goodbye ... it's what tells them that it's okay to move on, to live. They need it. And it's what Bianca would have wanted for them. And for us. You know that."

He held her closer then, and thought he felt her nodding her head ever so slightly against his chest. Jackson did not voice his greater fear – that it was Erica who most needed to start dealing with Bianca's death … that she was hiding herself in Maggie's coma. He worried what Erica would do when the girl woke up and was only Maggie, and not Bianca. And what if she never woke up? "I think this is what Maggie would want as well," he whispered.

He realized his mistake instantly. At the sound of Maggie's name, Erica tensed up and pushed herself out of his arms. She turned and rushed back to the bedside of the comatose girl, her expression a mask of almost frantic concentration.

"What about Maggie?" Eric shot back over her shoulder. "What's she going to do Jackson? What's she going to do when she wakes up and Bianca is dead, and she can't even say goodbye? How is she going to _move on_?"

Jackson pressed his lips together and gathered himself. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this – to laying out for Erica the fact that she was going to have to choose and then to having to pit Lily and Reggie and Kendall and Myrtle and even himself against Maggie. He knew that Erica's instinct to help this girl was overwhelming, perhaps even irrationally so. And yet it was also so understandable. Bianca loved Maggie, and Maggie was the last person to see Bianca alive. Jackson too longed for Maggie to wake up and tell them about the last moments of Bianca's life, even though he feared the answer. But he wouldn't put the world on hold hoping that Maggie would wake up – a hope that was getting less and less likely with each passing day. It was dragging down their entire family. "What if Maggie doesn't wake up?" Jackson asked matter-of-factly, "What if she never wakes up, Erica? David says ..."

"Don't' you dare quote David Hayward to me!" Erica growled back, and for the first time, she sounded truly angry.

Erica's battles with David during the past few days had been epic and were a big reason that Jackson was treading so carefully now. They started on the day Bianca died, when David, with Krystal in tow, finally showed up at the hospital. Jackson wondered if Erica would have behaved better if David hadn't immediately shown his complete lack of knowledge about Maggie's life, but he suspected not. And, to be fair, even Jackson, who knew Erica's lashing out was largely unfair, a product of grief, found her words justified. David didn't know Maggie was engaged. He had never even met Jonathan, much less known about any reservations that Maggie's friends were harboring about their relationship. And, perhaps worst of all, he didn't seem to know anything about the complex relationship between the two girls – actually uttering at one point that _"the mother of Maggie's friend' _wasn't entitled to an opinion on Maggie's medical care, or anything else. While technically true, nothing seemed more against the spirit of what the girl would have wanted. Jackson could still hear his, "_Maggie is a grown woman,_" response to Erica's question as to why he didn't know what was going on with the girl.

Maybe it was finally that comment, not the words themselves but the tone and attitude behind them, that ultimately made Jackson step back and allow David to be trampled. It sounded exactly like what it was – an excuse – and an indignant one at that. It sounded so like the myriad of excuses David had for how he and Krystal and Babe had treated Bianca. Jackson wasn't even really sure they were excuses, because they didn't acknowledge any responsibility, any remorse, any contrition. Once again, David Hayward didn't think he had done anything wrong. It baffled Jackson. He had imagined that he would mediate between the two, appealing to their love and concern for Maggie. Instead, he stood by and let Erica decimate David.

In the end, though no major decision could be made without David's consent as Maggie's only accessible relative, Erica had actually managed to get David essentially thrown off Maggie's case. Joe Martin and Maria Grey handled all aspects of Maggie treatment. And though Jackson knew they consulted with him, David stayed away from Maggie's room, shamed by Erica's pointed inquiries about what Leo or Bianca or Leora or Anna or even Maggie would think about him now. He should, Jackson often thought, feel sorry for David. Especially since Babe sat quietly in the waiting room day after day at least ignored, and maybe even tolerated, by Erica. But he didn't – even as he watched Babe pulling away from her father.

"David isn't saying anything that Joe and Maria aren't saying as well," Jackson pointed out, desperate to get the conversation back on track.

Erica's face fell in recognition, but she recovered quickly, "But you heard Dr. Joe. Everything is functioning normally. Everything."

Jackson nodded. What Erica was saying was indeed true, but it didn't change anything, "That's true, and we're all hanging onto that … that Maggie will recover … but it's not a guarantee. Dr. Joe said that too"

Erica looked around the room, as if searching for a rebuttal. When she finally looked back at Jackson, confidence radiated from her, "Maggie is trying to get back, Jack. She's fighting. I know it."

Jackson smiled a sad smile, and wished he believed her. Then he took his last shot, "What if you're wrong, Erica," Jackson started carefully. "What if she's trying to let go … to be with Bianca again?"

The words hung out there, almost like an echo between the two of them. Erica's face fell, and Jackson hated himself a little bit for manipulating her emotions in that way, even though he felt it was the right thing. As the silence continued, he said nothing. She would have to make the decision on her own.

"Okay," she said quietly, finally, "Okay."

Jackson held out a hand, and she took it. They stood together for several long moments looking at each other and Maggie and thinking about Bianca. Then Jackson nodded, put an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the room.

…

Jamie Martin looked around the hospital waiting room nervously as he paced back and forth, "I really think we should go, Babe."

"We can't leave now," Babe insisted vehemently from her chair, "Jack just went in Maggie's room. They could come out at any moment."

Jamie's face scrunched up in disbelief, "That's exactly why we need to get out of here. You want to visit Maggie, fine, so do I. But let's come back after they're gone."

"I'm not here just to see Maggie," Babe said, sounding surprised, "I'm here to see Erica."

"Erica," Jamie's voice actually jumped an octave. "After what happened yesterday … and the day before … and the day before … and the day before … what do you think is going to change?" He paused briefly, but not long enough for her to answer, "The woman ignores you _every day,_" Jamie added incredulously, "This makes no sense, Babe."

Babe stared off into space, almost like she was in a daze. "Did you know that Maggie was engaged?" she finally asked.

Jamie watched her, exasperated, but when Babe turned and looked at him expectantly, he rolled his eyes, thought about the question, and answered, "No. I didn't know that Maggie was engaged." He paused for a moment before adding, "But I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Babe looked away again, still perplexed, "David didn't know either. Erica asked him, and he said he didn't know."

"It's not David's fault that Maggie fell in love with a monster," Jamie pointed out, shocked to hear himself defending David.

"She must have felt very alone," Babe added, though Jamie wasn't at all sure she was speaking to him.

It was then he sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "I think it's great that you're so worried about Maggie, and that you want to make peace with Erica. You have a really big heart … it's part of why I love you so much. But this," he motioned around the waiting room, "This … this vigil you seem to be on. It's not helping anyone, Babe … least of all yourself. This is not the life we envisioned for ourselves, Babe," Jamie pointed out. "J.R. is finally not acting like a total jerk about James, and we can finally move on … to the life we both want."

Babe looked up at him and knew that he was right. But what was that life that seemed so perfect not so long ago? She almost couldn't remember. She knew it was being with Jamie, who was always on her side, safe and warm. But he had offered her that life before, many times, and she had turned him down – for J.R. It was only after J.R. and all of that ugliness that she had accepted what Jamie offered. So what if there had been no J.R., would this have been her choice? And now?

"Babe, Babe," Jamie snapped her out of her thoughts, "We're not going to solve this today. Let's stay out of everyone's way. Let's go back to our life."

Babe nodded silently and took his outstretched hand. He was right. She wasn't going to solve this today. "You're right, honey. We're together, and Ace is doing so well. Let's go home." She stood and walked towards the elevator.

Jamie stood stunned for a moment before following her. It was the first time he had heard her call the baby 'Ace.'

…

"Okay, this is the last of them," J.R. let out a small grunt as he brought the last box into the house, "How much stuff can two women have?" he smiled jokingly as he put down the box.

Kendall didn't smile back from where she was sitting on the box-laden couch with Miranda. "Three," she said quietly.

"What?" J.R. asked. With his back turned, he wasn't even sure if she had spoken.

She looked up from Miranda and directly at J.R., "Three," she said a little louder, "This is how much stuff three women have: me, Miranda … and Bianca."

J.R. cringed, but caught himself before saying anything. For the tenth or eleventh time that day, 'mistake' flashed across his mind. It wasn't the actions Kendall was taking, not exactly. This house, small and quiet, with a yard and trees and a garden, was going to be great for Kendall and Miranda. After all, hadn't Bianca declared it 'perfect' in the weeks before Miranda's birth? No, that wasn't it. It was just this sense he had that everything was happening to fast. And, of course, the fact that the house … this house … was suddenly available. That, he believed, was Zack's work. He was trying to help, J.R. supposed, but was it really helping? He watched Kendall and Miranda on the couch and cursed himself for not knowing the answer.

…

"I just don't think you need it," Greenlee insisted vehemently.

Ryan paced around the apartment looking rattled.

"Listen," Greenlee said, almost as a command, "I talked to a bunch of shrinks after Leo died. And to tell you the truth, none of them helped. Not really. Leo was gone, and they didn't make him less gone or make it easier to lose him." She stopped and smiled lovingly at Ryan, "The only thing that made it better for me was you. And I want to do that for you."

Ryan smiled back, but he only half heard what she was saying. Instead, a conversation from earlier that day continued to run through his head. He had been headed to Maria Grey's office to ask about Maggie when he heard the voices:

…

"_I don't think that's true," Anita insisted._

"_What do you mean?" Maria asked, clearly surprised by her sister's words._

"_Well. It's a tragedy. I certainly agree with that," Anita began carefully, "But I don't think it was unpreventable."_

_Ryan froze, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. He pressed himself against the wall outside Maria's office and listened._

"_I don't know," Maria countered thoughtfully, "Jonathan was clearly a very disturbed young man. It sounds like it was only a matter of time before he snapped."_

"_That's probably true," Anita conceded, "But that's not what I'm talking about … not exactly, at least. After a pause, Anita continued, "I've seen a lot of this."_

"_A lot of what?" Maria asked._

"_A lot of abuse, a lot of addictions, a lot of victims. Las Vegas was crawling with it. And I'll tell you a secret," Anita paused, and Ryan felt himself leaning closer to the office door, "There is always someone … someone who knows and could have done something."_

"_Who?" Maria asked._

"_I don't know," and Ryan could hear the shrug in Anita's voice, "I don't know who. But I guarantee you that there was someone …from the past or the present … someone who knew, or should have known, that Jonathan was capable of this."_

_Ryan turned and ran back down the hall._

_Anita and Maria both looked up at the noise, but just for a moment before turning back to each other. "I'm not saying it's that person's fault, not exactly," Anita paused and considered her next words, "But they probably could have stopped it … whoever they are."_

…

"Ryan," Greenlee snapped her fingers in front of his face, causing him to jump. "Are you even listening to me," she asked accusingly.

Ryan shook his head to clear it, "Of course," he reached out and hugged her next to him, "Of course I am."

"And you'll let me help you," Greenlee continued expectantly.

"Of course," he responded, holding her a little tighter, "Of course."

…

Everything was happening in slow motion, like it had already happened a thousand times before. Somehow, Maggie knew what would happen next. He was lowering the gun. Bits of plaster that had landed on his shoulder only moments ago where slowly slipping toward the floor.

She grabbed Bianca and began tugging at her, "He's going to kill us," she screamed.

But Bianca didn't move. It was like she couldn't even hear her. And no matter how hard she tugged, she couldn't pull Bianca out of the way. She stared straight at Jonathan, talked to him even.

Panic overwhelmed her. Not again, she thought. She threw herself in front of Bianca, closed her eyes and yelled, "No!" When she was met with only silence, she opened her eyes, only to find herself behind Bianca, only to hear the last of his words, "_You want out? Here's out!_"

"Noooo!" she screamed.

The heart monitor leapt, beeping frenetically. "Bianca," it was barely a whisper, but it was there. And then the comatose girl opened her eyes.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Reggie, blurry-eyed, opened the door to the loft. The incessant pounding had woken him from a deep sleep. He didn't know what time it was. He was even too disorientated to wonder why Jack hadn't answered the door. Still half asleep, he padded over to the door. As soon as the deadbolt clicked off, even before he could open the door, the person on the other side pulled open the door and shoved him aside.

"Where is my father?" Greenlee demanded.

"What?" Reggie asked, dazed, stumbling backwards.

"My father!" Greenlee said louder and with even more irritation, "I need my father. Where is he?"

Reggie rubbed his eyes and looked around the loft, "Ummm, not here?" he answered sarcastically.

Greenlee huffed and walked towards Jack's bedroom, "Dad," she called out, "Dad? Are you in there?" After briefly knocking, she entered the room. Within seconds, she was back. "Where is he?" she demanded.

Exasperation flooded over Reggie's face. "How should I know?" Reggie countered, "I've clearly just been woken up by a very rude visitor. Do I look like I've been keeping track of Jack's every move?"

Greenlee flopped on the couch, drawing a frown from Reggie, "He's got to do something," Greenlee said, more to herself than to Reggie, "What am I supposed to do about this?"

"About what?" Reggie said, instantly hating himself for asking.

"About Ryan," Greenlee huffed out, as if the answer was obvious. "Yesterday, he disappeared for practically the whole day. And when I woke up this morning he was gone. I'm worried about him, Reggie. Today … Bianca's funeral … it's going to be very hard on him."

Reggie bit his tongue … literally.

The extended silence caused Greenlee to finally turn and face him. "What?" she snapped as she paused to study him. She shook her head derisively. "It's people like you," she began, pointing at Reggie, "People like you are the reason he's acting like this." Greenlee stood, inviting, even daring, a confrontation, "It is not Ryan's fault. It's not our fault," Greenlee insisted, clutching at her own chest, "We're just trying to live our lives together. It's not our fault that Bianca is dead."

Reggie's eyes narrowed, "Of course not," he said with exaggerated sympathy, "But then, nothing is ever_ your _fault, is it?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Greenlee sniped back.

If Greenlee was looking for a confrontation, she was going to get one. Not awake enough to really control his temper or consider the consequences of his actions, the raw emotions took over Reggie. It was everything. He missed Bianca so much. And he couldn't stop thinking that maybe … just maybe … if he had figured it out sooner, done something different or something more … maybe he could have stopped Jonathan. And it was Maggie, just laying there day after day, not waking up. And Jack looked so old to him suddenly, and worse yet, so unsure of what to do next. But mostly, it was the fear – the cold, lurking fear that he was going to lose another family.

Reggie walked away from her in a last ditch effort to control himself, but the truth was that he didn't want to. The anger, looking so long for an outlet, came pouring out. He spun back towards her, eyes blazing, "Me, me, me, me, me. Us, us, us, us, us. Don't you ever stop? Don't you ever shut up? Everyone around here is hurting and trying to deal with Bianca's death, but we should all drop everything to worry about her murder's brother? Are you kidding me?" He paused, but started up again before Greenlee could respond, "But it's not even really about that, is it? It's really all about you," he pointed at her angrily. "It's always got to be all about you. Jack's wedding … all about you. Kendall's trial ... all about you. The Cambius fortune … all about you. And now even Bianca's death … ALL … ABOUT … YOU. You are unbelievable." Reggie took a deep breath. For the first time in days, he actually felt a little better.

Fury overcame Greenlee. She advanced on Reggie, flinging a new accusation with each step. What about Maggie? She's the one who chose to be with Jonathan." Closer. "What about Kendall and Aidan? They were the ones that investigated Jonathan, unnerving him." Closer. "What about you? You were the one who suspected Jonathan was hitting Maggie" Even Closer, he could practically reach out and touch her. "What about Lily? She was the one who set Jonathan off in the first place."

Reggie staggered back, finally hitting the kitchen countertop with his back. He was completely flabbergasted, "Will you listen to yourself. You still don't get it?" He had a few more choice words ready to go when he heard a soft bump from the back of the apartment. He looked back over his shoulder and a look of panic crossed his face. "Get out of here," he suddenly screeched at Greenlee, "Just … please … get out!"

Greenlee watched him suspiciously. What was with this kid? She guessed the truth hurt. "You don't tell me when I can and cannot be in my father's house," she snarled back at him.

"Well, Jack's not here," Reggie countered, his words coming fast and nervously, "And it's my house too." He looked around in a last ditch effort to come up with another idea. When he couldn't, he shrugged his shoulders, grabbed Greenlee by the arm and pulled her over to the door.

Indignation burst from Greenlee's every pore, "_You _cannot do this to _me,_" she insisted.

Reggie shoved her out the door, "This isn't about you!" he yelled. Hearing the loft door slam and the oversized bolt click into position calmed the boy somewhat. But he was still very clearly rattled. He put both of his palms on the closed door and took a long, slow deep breath. He tried to think of what he would say.

When he turned around, she was already there, "Is it my fault Bianca is dead?" Lily asked quietly.

…

He pushed the door open a crack and watched her. It had taken him several hours to find her, but he finally had. She was telling Miranda how pretty she looked and how proud her mother would be of her. She was telling her how they were going to say goodbye to her mother today, but that she would never be gone from them, not really. It was breaking his heart. He was just about to reveal himself when someone knocked on the front door.

Kendall put Miranda in her playpen and opened the front door to Ethan.

"How are you two doing?" he asked, looking around Kendall towards Miranda.

"Okay," Kendall responded, as if she were trying to convince herself. "It's better here," she nodded, "I think it is better here."

Ethan turned to Kendall, who was watching Miranda, "Why didn't you tell me you were moving, Kendall?"

Her eyes never left Miranda, "I don't know," she admitted softly, "I needed to get out of there, away from everything in that life … my old life."

Ethan's face fell, "Am I part of your 'old life'?" he asked quietly.

She turned to him then, her eyes filling with tears, "I can't do this … not today. I don't want to hurt you. You're part of Miranda's family, and that's never going to change. But I just feel … I just feel so lost."

Ethan closed the distance between them, "Kendall, honey, that's perfectly natural. But maybe you're making it worse by isolating yourself out here. I really want to help," he looked defeated, "I wish you'd let me help."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. She looked overwhelmed. She tried to speak, but no words came out. He reached out to her.

"Are you ready to go?" the watching man was as shocked as Ramsey to hear the other man's voice. J.R. Chandler, dressed in a black suit and holding his son, stood in the doorway.

Kendall, looking relieved, took a step backwards, away from Ethan, and then another. "Yes," she said, looking only at J.R., "Just one minute." She then turned and headed into the bathroom.

Ethan watched her, then turned to the other man, "What are you doing here, Chandler?" His voice was harsh, suspicious.

J.R. walked around him, depositing his son in the playpen with Miranda. "I'm giving Kendall a ride to Bianca's funeral."

"Kendall's in a very fragile state right now," Ethan said, glaring at the other man's back.

J.R., reaching down into the playpen to pat Miranda, and then Ace, on the head, ignored him.

"Did you hear me?" Ethan asked loudly, irritated.

J.R. stood slowly, then turned to Ethan, "I know you want to help Kendall," he said, not unkindly, "But this isn't the way to do it."

"What do you mean?" Ethan shot back.

J.R. shrugged, "I'm not the enemy here. I want to help Kendall too."

"Help her how?" Ethan asked, eyes narrowing.

J.R. shook his head, as if humoring the other man, "Kendall asked me to come," he stated flatly. His next words were softer, almost kind, "I don't know why Kendall is acting the way she is." He caught himself, "I mean … of course I know the reason … but … well … it just happened. Maybe we shouldn't read too much in what she's doing or saying now." He watched Ramsey, who was listening to him intently, "Maybe you go … for now. We'll see you at the funeral."

Ethan studied the other man. He didn't trust him, but he sounded sincere. And what if he was making things worse for Kendall. That's the last thing he wanted. "Okay," he said, nodding. At the door, he turned back, "I'm sorry I went off on you, Chandler. I just … I just don't know what to do."

J.R. nodded back, "I don't think any of us do." He watched the other man go. Still staring at the door, he called out, "You can come out now."

Kendall emerged sheepishly from the bathroom.

J.R. looked at her, a worried expression on his face, "What was that all about?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "I thought everything was going really well between you two … before …," he trailed off.

"Before Bianca died," she finished for him.

He looked her straight in the eye, "Yes. Before Bianca died." He looked over at the door and then back at Kendall, "He just wants to help. He might even need to."

"I know," Kendall admitted quietly.

"Then what's the problem?" J.R. asked.

Kendall paced around the room, getting more and more agitated. "Ethan is a great guy. I care about him very much." Her pacing quickened, "It's just … just … right now … I made promises … to Bianca …"

J.R. could see Kendall reaching a breaking point. He intercepted her pacing, grabbing both of her arms and turning her to face him, "It's okay," he said gently, "Calm down. It's okay. I promise." He smiled at her and, eventually she smiled back.

Calmer, she took a step back. "He's her family, J.R." She walked over and reached down to pat Miranda's head, "I have such a bad track record. I just can't … I just can't do anything that might drive Ethan out of Miranda's life. Without Bianca, she is going to need every family member she has." After a pause, Kendall continued, "And I promised Bianca. I promised her that I'd be a good mother to Miranda. That means I have to put Miranda first … no matter what."

J.R. said nothing, and Kendall eventually turned back towards him.

"You think I'm crazy," Kendall said as she studied J.R. She flopped down on the couch and buried her head in her hands. "Maybe I am crazy."

He shook his head, as he sat down next to her. As he spoke, he rubbed her back. "Not at all. Not even a little." She raised her head and looked at him skeptically, "I get it. I do." He looked over at the playpen. "It's overwhelming to be someone's parent. To always be so worried about doing the wrong thing. I know that. Believe me. I've already done the wrong thing … plenty. But … I don't know … maybe you should talk to Ethan … really talk to him. It's only fair … for both of you."

"I will," she said, though J.R. wasn't quite sure he believed her. "Just not right now … not today."

He nodded. Her eyes were red, and she was practically shaking. "Kendall, listen," he began, "Why don't I take the kids over to the funeral home? You wash your face, rest a little and then come over." He looked at his watch, "There's plenty of time."

Kendall felt relief course through her at the suggestion. "Would you?" she asked gratefully.

"Of course." He walked over to the playpen, and Kendall watched both children reach out to him. In an instant, he had them in his arms and was at the door. He looked back, but Kendall spoke before he could say anything.

"Thank you." The door closed, and for once, Kendall welcomed the silence. But it lasted only for a moment.

"Kendall?"

She thought it was J.R., and yet she realized that couldn't be right, since the voice had come from behind her. A whisper. Someone must have come through the back door, she realized. And yet she wasn't afraid. She turned around slowly and saw the man enter the room. "Ryan."

…

No one would be here today. Today was Bianca's funeral. She hadn't told David or Jamie or her mother that she was coming. They would have told her to do whatever she thought was best … whatever she wanted. Was that all they ever told her – what she wanted to hear. Was that love?

She entered the room slowly, reverentially. It never ceased to shock her … how still Maggie was, how quiet. She never talked to Maggie. She knew Erica did. But she couldn't. She didn't know what to say. She thought maybe she'd try today. She sat down in the chair, Erica's chair. That was a first as well. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and readied herself.

The noise, though almost inaudible, caused Babe to jump. She looked back down at Maggie. Had she made a noise? "Maggie?" she whispered. Nothing. Undeterred, Babe leaned her ear down close to Maggie's mouth. "Maggie?" she said again. After a moment, she bolted upright. She hadn't heard anything, but she had felt something … something on her cheek. She looked down and watched the girl. Sure enough, he eyelids flickered.

She sprang up, "Maggie," she said a little louder, "Maggie was that you?"

Her cell phone rang. She looked down at the display screen … 'David.' Not 'Dad,' she realized.

She shut the phone off and ran out of the room calling, "Maria!"


End file.
